


cheer and chandeliers

by halcyonskies



Series: OTP Challenge [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kinda. it's really only mentioned), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel's Family Is A Happy One, Family Fluff, Insecure Dean, M/M, Nervous Dean, i know it's surprising to me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything went better than expected!</p>
            </blockquote>





	cheer and chandeliers

**Author's Note:**

> 8th Challenge - Meeting The Family

Cas’ childhood home was  _ huge.  _ It almost reminded Dean of that house from the  _ Home Alone  _ movie, neat brown stones and a sweeping archway over the front door. Little multicolored lights twinkled over every available surface, casting an inviting glow over the thin layer of snow that had fallen this morning. It was like one of those Christmas cards people sent to their relatives, something dreamy and unattainable, but still pretty to look at. Every other house down this way was similar – old, wealthy homes that had housed the same families for generations, all of them lovely and well looked-after.

Dean felt pretty bedraggled by comparison, standing outside in front of the Impala, wearing a leather jacket that was older than he was, a couple cheap tin pie pans in his hands. He’d always known Cas came from money, but the guy was so kind and unassuming that it was easy to forget. Dean had never felt so keenly intimidated by it until this very moment. 

He’d been standing there gawking for a few minutes before the door swung open, noise and light spilling out around the very reason he was even here at all. Cas came bounding down the front steps, looking ruffled and  _ happy.  _

“Dean!” was the only warning he had before the other was pushing up into his space, pressing sweet-sticky lips to his own. Dean never knew how he managed to keep the pies from falling straight out of his hands while he was so distracted, but when Cas leaned back, they were still right where he’d left them, unharmed.

“Been at the spiked stuff already, babe?” Dean murmured, unable to keep the goofy smile off his face. It was hard to remember why he’d been so nervous about coming here when his boyfriend looked so . . . well, under the circumstances, Dean figured  _ jolly  _ was about the best word he could use. It was a welcome change over the way Cas had been the last time Dean had seen him, coming down from a finals-induced anxiety fest, all purple-bruised eyes and shaky hands. 

“Maybe.” Cas returned his grin without hesitation, putting a warm palm to his back and urging him forward. “Come inside already, before you get frostbite.”

“Not how it works,” Dean mumbled under his breath, butterflies returning in full force. He could feel his shoulders tightening, every muscle bunched up and ready to face whatever was through that door. 

“Relax, Dean. Please. You’ve already met some of them, remember?”

“There are  _ dozens  _ of them in there, Cas.”

“Not dozens. Just Gabriel, Balthazar, and Inias, and Hannah and Muriel. Oh, and Michael and his wife, Tessa. Uh, and maybe Lucifer, if he actually decides to swing by–”

“Oh yeah, that’s way less than I thought. Thanks, Cas.”

The sarcasm earned him a swat on the shoulder, and then he was fully inside the front hall, door closed behind him. For a moment Dean just stood there, feeling a little lost and trying to draw strength through Cas’ touch. 

“Dean, I promise it will be alright.”

“Most of them haven’t even  _ met  _ me.”

“Trust me, okay? Pops has been looking forward to seeing you!”

“Uh-huh. Did you see him polishing any of his shotguns, by any chance?”

Cas just laughed, pecking him playfully on the nose. “Pops doesn’t own any firearms.”

Which didn’t really set Dean at ease in the least, but Cas was already floating away, Dean’s pies in hand. “The coat closet is right there,” the man called over his shoulder. “Come back this way when you’re finished.”

It took all of thirty seconds to toe his shoes off and stick his jacket in with the others, but it was several minutes before Dean was able to collect himself and brave the noise down the hall. He resisted the urge to fiddle with the hem of his sweater like a kid, instead putting all of his energy into ignoring the sheer decadence of everything around him. Even without the bulk of garlands and tinsel and Santa Claus paraphernalia, this place was  _ grand.  _ Everything was solid, dark oak furniture and richly patterned rugs, little crystal dishes on every available surface. Jesus, there was even a  _ chandelier  _ on the ceiling.

“It’s the mean-Dean machine!” someone called, voice loud and light and decidedly obnoxious. Dean tried not to scowl and failed miserably, sending a glare Gabriel’s way. 

“That’s probably the worst one I’ve heard yet,” he grumbled, lingering in the the threshold to what appeared to be the main den. “Can’t you just call me by my freaking  _ name? _ ”

One of the women lounging on the couch chuckled. “You’d have better luck getting him to keep his paws out of the dessert tray.”

“That’s just cold, Tess.”

“That’s just the  _ truth,  _ Gabe.” The woman – Tessa, apparently, one of the few people in the room that wasn’t actually related to Cas by blood – turned a kind smile on him, rising from her seat and coming forward to shake his hand. Dean was momentarily glad she hadn’t tried to hug him instead, knowing the contact would be just a little much right now. “You must be Dean. Castiel’s told us a lot about you.”

“A  _ lot,”  _ somebody muttered (going by the accent, Dean assumed Balthazar), and most of the other men in the room raised their glasses in solidarity. He could feel a mortified flush rising up his neck when Tessa nodded in agreement, albeit affectionately. 

“He’s very fond of you.”

“Fond? Really? Try arse over tit bloody  _ besotted _ –”

One of the girls – blonde, slender, probably still in high school by the looks of her – reached back over her chair and slapped Balthazar’s arm. Judging by the sharp crack of sound and the pained yelp that came right after, it hadn’t been a particularly gentle one, and Dean sent a thankful grin her way. 

By the time introductions had gone around and Dean was doing his best to remember everybody he hadn’t already met, Cas had returned, two glasses in his hands. Dean was so busy hoping that one of the glasses was for him that he didn’t even notice the older man trailing along behind until the guy spoke.

“So this is Dean, huh?”

“Yes.” Cas was smiling that dopey smile of his again, as if Dean hadn’t been sweating over this very meeting all day. Hell, all damn  _ week.  _ “This is Dean.”

Yeah, Cas had definitely been at the spiked stuff. Dean steadied him by the waist as he staggered closer, quickly taking the glass that wasn’t in his dominant hand before it ended up a mess of shattered pieces on the floor. Taking comfort in the warmth of his boyfriend’s body pressed up against his, Dean met Chuck Shurley’s eyes and reached out a hand.

“Good to meet you, sir,” he said quietly, steadfastly ignoring the teasing snickers and hissed  _ kissass! _ ’s that rose up behind him.

As unassuming as Cas’ dad was in his ripped jeans and ratty pullover, Dean knew upon first glance this wasn’t somebody to be taken lightly. Beneath a genuine mask of kindness lurked a sharp blue gaze, one that seemed to sear into Dean like a hot iron spike. Here was somebody that would probably string Dean up by his balls if he ever even thought about hurting Cas, and as terrifying as that was, it was also sort of comforting. 

The man’s lips pulled up into a huge, dorky grin. “Welcome to the family, Dean. And at the risk of sounding cliche, I’d really prefer it if you called me Chuck.  _ Sir  _ is for crotchety old dudes and people like Michael.”

_ “Thank  _ you, Father,” the man in question called out, taking the ribbing with good grace, and Dean found it wasn’t so difficult to relax, all of a sudden. 

Despite being surrounded by luxury, it was plain to see these people weren’t defined by their opulent lifestyles. As the night wore on, Dean even began to forget how huge the room was, or how heavy the crystal tumblers were in his hand. Nobody ever acted as if he wasn’t welcome, accepting him into their fold as easily as if Dean had been around for years instead of just mere hours. 

With Cas at his side, food in his belly, and old Christmas music warbling somewhere in the background, Dean really did feel like he belonged here.


End file.
